No Han Is An Island
by Random Guise
Summary: Bruce Lee avenged his sister and temple, but just how did the mysterious Mr. Han set up his fortress in the first place? A short one shot prequel to the movie. I don't own the characters, and I've never owned an island. Rated T for criminal activities that are mentioned in passing in the story.


**A/N: I'm not a big martial arts movie fan, but I do really like "Enter The Dragon" and by extension, the short film parody "Fist Full of Yen". But it seems to me that such a formidable island setup as Han's didn't just come from nowhere…**

"Next please."

A short man in a white ghee moved from his place at the head of the line to the window marked "Applications". Without speaking he thrust a sheaf of papers toward the clerk. The clerk, a balding middle-aged man with short black-rimmed reading glasses examined the offered paperwork for a few moments. Tsking, he turned over several pages as he scanned the contents.

"No, no, no" he said. "These aren't filled out correctly this time either, Mr. Han."

"I'm not Master Han. I am his student Lo."

The clerk looked over at the group still standing in the line where Lo had been; each was also clad in a white ghee with the exception of one whose ghee was black. "You there in black, are you Mr. Han?" the clerk asked.

"No, I am his student Tam" he said looking down self-consciously. "I wear black because it hides stains better. Master Han cannot leave the island because he...injured himself and stayed on the island."

"How badly injured is he?"

"He will recover in time. He...lost a hand playing poker."

The clerk considered how that could be an injury, then left with "I'll be back in a moment." He disappeared into an office for several minutes, and then returned to his window. "Due to the extenuating circumstances, I will travel with you back to the island to assist Mr. Han in the proper way to fill out these forms." He put a 'Next Window Please' sign out and, grabbing his threadbare coat, headed towards the door. "Let's go gentlemen. We should be able to complete this today."

...

On the island, all of the major construction had been completed, leaving only detail work left to finish the compound and fortress. All that was lacking was a little piece of paper called a "Certificate of Occupancy" which would allow him to operate the legitimate part of his operation, the so-called school of martial arts. With that running he would be free to run his underground operations freely.

This is what I've been trying to avoid, thought Han. I want to have a crime empire free from government interference, but in order to build my island fortress outside of their jurisdiction I still need government approval. Just barely in time he caught himself reaching to rub his tired eyes with the prosthetic hand he was now using. High stakes poker indeed.

His assistant Oharra ran up, gave a bow and informed him that the boat from the mainland was arriving. Han joined him in walking down to the dock to greet his students back from their trip. He was somewhat taken back when the clerk stepped off the boat with them as they walked up to Han. The students gave a bow of respect and departed.

"Mr. Han, my name is Norman Bland. I work in the office of Government Applications and am here on behalf of our staff. I know time is valuable to both of us, so I've received permission to visit to complete your application for a Certificate of Occupancy in person. You seem to have trouble properly filling it out...so..." His voice trailed off as he saw Han's missing hand.

"That is most gracious of you Mr. Bland. You honor our island with your presence. I will be completely candid with you in order to make your time here as short as possible." And it will be shorter still he thought, if I need to arrange an accident for you.

"You realize Mr. Han that you cannot begin operations until you fill out your form and get it approved. So let up begin with the first problem" Bland said as he looked over the first page. "Yes, here it is: Nature of business. You put down 'stuff'. Now assuming that you don't actually manufacture stuffing material here, what is your business?"

Han looked at Oharra who only shrugged. "I'm sorry Mr. Bland, my assistant filled out the form and I'm afraid he isn't very good with expressing himself." Han decided to indeed be candid. "I manufacture and export drugs. Opium to be precise."

"Is that the only thing you manufacture and export?"

Han hadn't thought of expanding his illicit trade yet, so the answer was a simple "Yes."

"Good. I'll put down 'Pharmaceuticals'. You are in a unique situation, Mr. Han. Your island is outside our country's policing area. We still have administrative rights, but we can do nothing about criminal activity. Let's find the next problem." Han was starting to feel pretty good about the application. Bland flipped over to the next page and continued. "Under 'Staff' you put down 'people'. Really Mr. Han?"

Now Oharra wouldn't even look Han in the eyes, but chose to study the ground. "Once again Mr. Bland I apologize. I employ a full time staff for the needs of the island that will live on the island during their employment. I have housing prepared for the 49 people that work for me. Forty-eight if I fire Oharra here." Han turned to Oharra. "Next time I have Tania fill out the forms." Ohara looked away and studied the clouds.

"If you would Mr. Han, please take me on a tour of the whole facility while I check items against the form." This was great, not only were the police not going to show up but he had a chance to show off his operation.

"This may Mr. Bland. As you can see over here…"

(2 hours later)

"I don't understand," said Han as he sat back in his office chair behind his desk "you don't object to the drugs or the prostitution or the army I'm building but you want to hold my certificate for CONSTRUCTION problems?"

"As I explained Mr. Han, we don't have jurisdiction when it comes to criminal activity. We do have certain standards to uphold in the construction of facilities, though."

"How bad is it?"

"It doesn't look good. You have no access for the handicapped in your main building…"

Han held up his false hand. "I only hire able-bodied staff and warriors."

"…which I'm sure you can appreciate, but that includes wheelchair ramps for any potential visitors. No smoke detectors in the housing…"

"They are backordered, I explained that."

"…which could be a tragedy if people were injured before they were put in. Speaking of fires, your main power source is from a lava vent steam generator. I didn't see any safety approval of the boiler posted."

"I'm sure it was merely lost. We'll make…er…find it and get it posted immediately."

"And what about earthquake evacuation route postings? You live on the Pacific Ring of Fire man!"

"We will have drills starting tomorrow."

"Make sure those exits are clearly marked."

Han sighed. "It will be done."

"Your island has no lighthouse for safety during poor weather. If a ship were to run aground the loss of life and property would be enormous."

"Why don't I just put a big neon sign saying 'Han Island - Go Around'? Sorry, I haven't really wanted to advertise my presence here. I'll start construction of a modest lighthouse immediately."

"Your radio room has no emergency exit. What if a poisonous snake were to get into the room? There's only one way out."

"There are no snakes on the island. We have killed them all."

"Don't say that! You don't want the environmental agency on your back. I hope you meant you relocated them to a nearby island to live long and happy snake lives."

"Of course" Han quickly amended. "It was an undertaking of epic proportions. I still get postcards from the snakes thanking me for their new home."

"And lastly that opium processing room is a nightmare. Safety helmets and glasses lying around without being worn and not a respirator to be found in the whole room. Mr. Han, quite frankly I don't know how we can certify you."

Han quickly thought of several ways to rid himself of Bland, but that didn't solve his real problem. He needed that certificate. No certificate, no drug operation, no tournaments, no crime empire or world domination. Then he noticed the threadbare coat that Bland was wearing.

"Mr. Bland, how much salary does a clerk like you earn in a year?"

…

At the dock Bland was getting back on to the boat when he turned to Han. "Everything seems to be in order here Mr. Han" he said as he tucked a fat envelope deep into his coat pocket. "Your application should be approved tomorrow. I have a warning: when your men go into town do NOT let them get into trouble. If they start hassling the locals you will regret it. Now, there is one last blank to fill in. What is your first name?"

"Is that necessary Mr. Bland? I answered all your other questions and I think you should be happy with the special application processing fee."

"More than happy, Mr. Han; you have my gratitude" said Bland as he patted his pocket. "But I need your first name for the record. No one else will know."

Han leaned over to whisper into Bland's ear. "Joyce" he said, making sure no one else could hear. "And if you tell anyone else my name I WILL kill you."

The End


End file.
